


Dancing

by neverworldwake



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Christmas, Dancing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-22 22:29:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23001412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverworldwake/pseuds/neverworldwake
Summary: Christmas time ficlet with a little bit of fluff.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 1
Kudos: 25





	Dancing

**Baz**

Simon leans against me whilst I hang a silver bauble at the top of the tree.

“Are you going to help me or what?”

It comes out a little more aggressively than I mean but Simon doesn’t try to retaliate, just looks at me and sighs, then reaches down to grab another ornament for the tree.

His hair is a mess and starkly contrasts to the ugly bright blue Christmas jumper he has thrown on top of his dark denim jeans — the same pair of jeans he has been wearing for a least a week now without washing them. He carefully manoeuvres (well, tries to) around the green pine tree, knocking several decorations with his wings that are stretched through cuts in his snowman pullover.

The radio is on, playing “Step Into Christmas” by Elton John and Simon hums along with the verses. When it gets to the chorus, however, Simon drops the bauble he’s holding and starts belting the words out at the top of his lungs.

“Oh Merlin, please,” I say almost facepalming in second-hand embarrassment as he screams the wrong words, nudging my shoulder playfully as he tries to sing. “Please, stop.”

Simon ignores me and starts dancing across the room, flailing his arms and thrashing his tail. He looks at me and grins, raising his voice, just to spite me.

“Dance with me,” he says, laughing. And, less reluctantly than I’d like to admit, I place my bauble on the tree and slowly walk across the room towards him.

**Simon**

Baz looks stunning, as always. He has started wearing scarfs inside, which I think is weird but he thinks “its fashion”. So, I guess I agree; I don’t really understand fashion and it looks good on him (I mean, everything does).

He’s got a sort of posh green jumper on, which fits him perfectly, over his white shirt and a black pair of jeans along with his grey scarf. His sleeves are rolled up slightly to reveal his forearm, the paleness of his skin intensified by the cold and the black watch resting on his wrist.

His hair is half-up in a bun. Compared to him, I look homeless (he looks like a model for Calvin Klein or something).

I smile at him in all of his beauty as he sulkily makes his way across the beige-carpeted, half-decorated room. I finish the last line of “Step Into Christmas” and laugh as Baz walks up to me.

“You ready?” I say, grinning at him, raising my eyebrow. “whatever song comes on next, we have to dance to together.”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Baz smirks back at me, as I get ready, rubbing my hands together and stretching out my legs.

Baz laughs then takes my waist and motions for me to place my hand on his shoulder as 'Santa, Baby’ by Eartha Kitt begins to play. I giggle and Baz pretends to keep a stern face but I can tell in his eyes he’s happy and wants to laugh too.

We move uncomfortably for a few moments but we start to move into it, our bodies synchronising to the rhythm.

Neither of us can dance but it doesn’t matter because it’s just us. We’re the only ones in the world. I stare back at my future, revelling in the grey pools of his irises.

_I love you,_ I think, _I love your eyes and your voice and your heart and your everything. I love you, Baz. I love you for you and you and you and always, always you._

The music fades until all I can hear is his breath against mine. We have slowed, barely moving as we lean against each other in our grasp. He looks at me and I look at him and then we are just stood there, smiling goofily at each other.

And then, we kiss.

**Baz**

This is so much better than dancing.

I barely even register the song ending as I hold Simon, his strong jaw moving against mine as our lips join. It’s not frantic, or needy; it’s just there, we’re just here, and I know he’ll never leave me. It’s gentle and soft and warm and lovely.

We pull apart smiling. And slowly, we start dancing again.


End file.
